


Semi-sweet

by MsPeppernose



Series: The Fabulous Baking Boys [1]
Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy
Genre: AU, Baking, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-17
Updated: 2014-10-17
Packaged: 2018-02-21 13:33:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2470085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsPeppernose/pseuds/MsPeppernose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Patrick is somehow convinced to do a baking course to meet people. He meets Pete.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Semi-sweet

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the lyric "I'm half doomed, and you're semi-sweet" from Disloyal Order of the Water Buffaloes / Fall Out Boy
> 
> As described by Pete, the meaning of the line is;
> 
> "this is anybody you feel that close to, to me it was sometimes a girl but honestly sometimes it was patrick.
> 
> slight ref: to baking chocolate"
> 
> *  
> Rated T for swearing and suggestive cookies :)

Patrick sat at the back of his first baking class. A fucking baking class. He didn't really care too much about baking, and right now he couldn't really remember why he'd let himself get talked into it. It was mostly to get his mom off his back. She thought it would be great for him to get out there and meet some nice girls (or guys, he kept pointing out to her). And a baking class might be a nice way to do it. He had desperately tried to explain to his mom that he couldn't care less about learning how to make cookies, that he wasn't too pushed on meeting "a nice girl" as she had put it, and that even if he wanted to meet girls, they were probably all in the car maintenance class trying to meet guys. He also explained that the type of guys he wanted to meet probably wouldn't be doing a baking class either. But she had paid for the classes, and he thought that at the worst he would get some baked sugary treats out of it. It was only four classes anyway, Monday evening each week, for four weeks. He'd survive it. Probably.

Sitting at the back of the class made him feel like he was back in high school, in the way that he didn't really care much about it. He surveyed his fellow students and it was pretty much exactly what he was expecting. The class was small and there was a handful of women in their forties and fifties, and an old man who was about the age of Patrick's grandfather. Not exactly cream of the crop in terms of hot, young, single things.

The teacher of the class arrived. She rattled off a few rules for the class, just general health and safety, details of the classes and what they would be baking over their four week course. She went through the basics of baking, the theory behind it and the general equipment used for the different aspects of all of it. Patrick half listened. None of it seemed especially important. Then the teacher explained that they would all be paired up to begin their baking. That part made Patrick listen and he felt the same sense of dread he'd felt in high school over being paired up for things. Ugh. He was going to be stuck with an old lady who talked to him about her seven hundred cats and it would be awful.

Except that didn't happen. When the pairing up began, a guy about Patrick's age entered the room. He sat in front of Patrick and threw his rucksack under the kitchen bench. He was dressed in skinny jeans and a hoody, and he had dark hair that fell in heavy bangs over half his face. Patrick watched as the guy pulled the sleeves down over his hands and sat waiting, just like Patrick. From Patrick's observations, he was going to get paired up with a friendly looking lady in her fifties wearing a fluffy pink sweater with a cat on it, or the hoody guy. He desperately hoped for the hoody guy. 

Patrick's luck was in. Hoody switched benches to sit beside Patrick when their teacher paired them up.

"Hey." The guy threw his rucksack back onto the floor, under their bench and stuck his hands in his hoody pockets. He stared ahead of him, fidgeting, as if trying to decide to speak to Patrick or not. "I'm Pete."  
"Patrick. Nice to meet you."  
"So. I suck at baking. Just a warning. I hope I don't set the kitchen on fire." He smiled at Patrick.  
Patrick shrugged and returned the smile. "Don't worry, me too. We can accidentally burn down the place together."  
"Cool." He beamed a wide smile at Patrick that made gorgeous little crinkles at the side of his eyes. 

Their teacher passed around print outs of their recipe for today. For their first lesson, they were to start out with the simple task of a plain vanilla sponge cake. Patrick thought even that would most likely result in food poisoning, burnt fingers, and a whole lot of mess, but what the hell.

All ingredients were provided for them, they just needed to weigh, measure, mix and bake. Easy. Maybe it would resemble something vaguely edible by the end.

Patrick read out loud that they had to do and they set to work. He weighed out the appropriate amount of sugar and butter and began to beat them together into a pale creamy goo. Pete started on the flour and looked ecstatic to pour it all into a sieve and begin to sift it, watching it hit the bowl in soft little snowy white flour-drifts. He looked mesmerised and Patrick hid a smile watching him. It shouldn't be endearing, Pete was a grown man. Patrick was pretty sure of the crazy cat lady had spilled stuff everywhere, dipped her fingers into the bowl, or stared wide eyed at the magic that was a sieve, he'd be ready to implode. Somehow Pete got away with it.

"You done any baking before?" Patrick asked.  
"Just those pre-mixed, packet things. Any even then they weren't really great. Mostly they just got eaten raw." Pete smiled and Patrick melted a little.  
"So if you suck at baking, what made you do a cookery course?"  
"I got the classes as a gift for my girlfriend." Pete said, carefully sifting flour into the bowl and only spilling about half of it.  
Patricks heart sank a little. "Oh."  
"And then she dumped me. So ex-girlfriend really. But I thought they shouldn't go to waste. I'm half doing it to spite her," he shrugged.  
"I see." The disappointment Patrick had felt was replaced by a little giddy feeling. Pete was possibly single, then.  
"But mostly, I figured there was no point wasting the chance to learn how to bake a cake." Pete smiled a wide grin. "My mom will be super proud if I can bake something. You know, without poisoning her."  
"No poison cake?" Patrick asked.  
"Not this time." Pete shook his head, looking very serious, but then grinned and continued to sift flour all over their work bench. Patrick made a mental note to not let him sift the flour again.  
"What about you?"  
Patrick sighed. "My mom thought it would be a nice way for me to meet girls. Or boys I suppose. I think she thought if I could bake a cake I'd land myself a nice wife. Or something." He laughed lightly, and Pete smiled.  
"You're going to have to break her heart and tell her there's no eligible single girls in the class. Just middle aged ladies, but if you're into that I reckon you can have your pick." Patrick laughed and Pete shrugged again. "Hey, I'm not judging."  
"She'll cry."  
"We can make her an apology cake! No one cries when they're shovelling cakes into their mouth. That's a scientific fact." Pete pushed his hair up off his forehead with the back of his hand and left a trail of flour behind it.  
"Can't argue with science." Patrick grinned. Ok, maybe this class wasn't as terrible as he'd first thought. No girls, but he had made a friend instead. There was hope.

When the batter ingredients were all combined, Pete insisted he be the one to pour it into the cake tins, because it looked so awesome and gloopy (Pete's words, not Patrick's). Patrick was kind of proud of their progress so far, and by the look at Pete's face, he wasn't the only one.

"We could totally open a bakery together and call it "Shitty Cakes R Us." A one stop shop for all your crappy baking needs. We probably won't make you sick." Pete grinned and waved his wooden spoon-filled-hands as if showing off the imaginary bakery, and in the process flung a blob of cake batter in Patrick's direction.  
"Sorry." Pete said with a grimace and wiped the little smudge of batter from Patricks arm. "Got a bit excited about our imaginary bakery."  
"It's cool." Patrick didn't mind at all. Not one bit. Really he'd sort of like Pete to do it again. Pete's finger had felt warm and soft when he brushed against his arm, and it gave Patrick a little tingle in his chest. When Pete licked his finger clean, Patrick blushed a little and let his mind wander and fixate on Pete licking. It's like Pete could read Patrick's mind. His dirty, dirty mind. Pete didn't seem like he was trying to be suggestive when he did it, but that didn't really to matter to Patrick.

"This tastes fucking awesome, by the way." Pete held out the wooden spoon for Patrick to try. "Do you think we have to cook it? Or can we just eat it raw?"  
"I guess we have to cook it. It's a baking class, not a raw cake batter class." Patrick tentatively tasted the batter from Pete's spoon. Fuck. Yeah, Pete was right. It tasted fantastic. There was hope for their baking skills after all.  
"That's a shame. I'll have to be sneaky with my batter eating then." Pete spooned the mixture into the cake tin but on every third or fourth spoonful he gave the spoon a big lick. Patrick was sort of captivated. This was far more fun than he'd thought making cakes would be.

When their sponge cakes were in the oven, they washed up all their dishes and equipment (from looking around the class room, Patrick noticed that he and Pete had far more dirty dishes than any other pair of amateur bakers), and sat around waiting for the cakes were ready. When Patrick heard the ping of the oven timer, he carefully took the cake tins out of the oven. He decided it was best that he did it. Even with his severely limited baking skills, after watching Pete spill flour and batter everywhere he deemed himself better qualified to play with scalding hot cakes and metal trays, fresh from the oven. He managed not to burn himself or set the oven glove on fire, so he was doing well so far.

He and Pete stood at the countertop, staring at their beautiful, wonderful cakes that they had baked themselves. They even managed to somehow get them out of the cake forms without breaking them (much). 

Their teacher explained that if they wanted they could sandwich their cakes together with some jam and cream in the middle. Patrick thought Pete's eyes couldn't get any wider. "Fuck. We need to do that." It sounded like easy enough, so they gave it a go and it went sort of ok, with minimal destruction to the cake. It may have looked like a five year old baked it, but it tasted fucking amazing. They cut a wedge each and sat in silence grinning at each other with cake filled mouths. 

Maybe baking wasn't so bad.

*

When Monday night rolled around again, Patrick was sort of looking forward to his baking class. His mom had grilled him on his class mates and of there was any nice girls (or guys, he reminded her), and he had brushed her off, but told her he had actually enjoyed his class and that his cake had even been edible.

Patrick took his seat at the back of the class and was pleased to see that Pete was already sitting at that bench when he entered the room. Today he was wearing a black and white striped beanie hat which pulled most of his heavy bangs off his face. Patrick could see his gorgeous dark brown eyes better now that when he was all covered up by his emo hair.

"Hey. So you're alive too. We didn't kill ourselves with poison cake!" Pete held up his hand for a high five which Patrick happily gave him.  
"Yeah. Go team."  
"I'm glad. I know with the amount of junk food I eat, I think it's hard to poison me, my system is used to it. I feared for you, though!"  
Patrick laughed. "Thanks. I appreciate it. What are we making today?"  
Pete's eyes lit up. "Cookies."  
"Awesome."

They had to make up the cookie dough from scratch, like the batter the previous week. They chose to make two different types; chocolate chip, and butter cookies. They carefully mixed the dough, rolled it out (many, many times, because it mostly ended up getting stuck to the rolling pin or the bench), and cut out shapes. Pete had snagged them a set of animal shaped cookie cutters and they took a circle one too. Patrick kept Pete away from the sieve this time and had him beat the sugar and butter instead. Pete seemed to get just as much enjoyment from it. He beamed the whole time like it was some sort of magical experience.

When their cookies were baking (or what was left of their dough after Pete had eaten roughly a third of it raw), they were set the task of making frosting, at least two colours they were told. And then they were shown how to fill piping bags and how to hold them to enable them to decorate their cookies with words or designs. This part could be fun.

Patrick looked back over at Pete and he was hunched over the cookies, piping bag in hand, shaking with laughter.  
"What's so funny?"  
"You gota see this," he said, only managing to quell his laughter enough to get the words out. "I think we fucked up on the colour of our frosting."  
Patrick looked at the cake from over Pete's shoulder and couldn't help but smile. The frosting they had picked was a watery and pale off-white colour. There was no mistaking it. "Oh god."  
"We've totally frosted the cookies with spunk." Pete threw his head back and laughed again. "Spunk frosting." It looked obscene, and like Pete was smearing semen all over their so carefully baked cookies. "Oops."  
"And it doesn't help that the message you wanted to write was "mom I like boys", does it?"  
"It sure doesn't." His grin was wicked.

They spent the rest the class giggling and sniggering, especially when their teacher came around to view their progress. She eyed them suspiciously, and Patrick tried his best to not laugh in her face. All he could think about was their jizz-frosted cookies. Pete did incredibly well at looking innocent and the teacher looked like she was besotted by him and his coy smiles. Patrick got the impression that he could basically wrap anyone around his little finger. It didn't harm that he looked utterly adorable, wide-eyed and with flour on his cheek, and powdered sugar all over his hoody.

Their cookies were messy, but wonderful and there was enough left for them each to bring some home. Patrick thought of bringing some home to his mom to show off his newfound baking skills. Then he thought the better of it when he remembered the suggestive icing and the creative pictures and designs Pete had drawn on them with a mischievous glint in his eye. Maybe next time.

*  
The following Monday, Patrick sat at his usual bench at the start of class, but this time there was no Pete. To Patrick's dismay he was paired up with a woman in her forties named Olivia. She was kind and friendly, but he sort of missed Pete's baking ineptitude. 

About ten minutes into class Pete showed up. He was flushed and out of breath and Patrick's heart sank when Pete was paired up with the man who was old enough to be his grandfather. Pete waved over at Patrick and pouted. He mouthed "sorry" at him and Patrick returned a small, sad smile and a shrug. Nothing they could do.

Today's lesson was on pastry and they would be making pies. Mixing the pastry with Olivia was okay. She was far better at baking than Pete and Patrick combined, and Patrick learned quite a lot. He learned all about how to roll out the pastry and line the pie dish and cut more strips of pastry to make a pretty design for the top. But it wasn't the same. Pete might be a disaster in the kitchen, but what he lacked in skills, he made up for in fun and enthusiasm. 

Patrick caught Pete's eye a handful of times and they smiled at each other. They got to talk properly when the pies were all in the oven and they had each cleaned their work areas. Pete came and sat on Patrick's bench, swinging his legs back and forth.

"I got delayed. Sucks."  
"Can't be helped."  
"I didn't think they'd split us up."  
"I bet they totally did it on purpose. After the spunk cookies last week we can't be trusted."  
Pete laughed. "Yeah. I bet you're right. Hey, these pies are going to be awesome. I already ate a ton of raw pastry." He lowered his voice, and whispered close to Patrick's ear, "my baking parter was not impressed with me though." The whisper and Pete's warm breath on Patrick's ear gave him a little shiver and he laughed and blushed. Patrick was starting to think he was an actual teenage girl cliche; baking cookies, blushing and giggling. What the fuck was next? A sleepover? Getting his first fucking period?  
"What type of pie are you making?" Pete asked. They had been told they could chose a filling from a selection provided.  
"Chocolate." The chocolate filling was a rich, gooey consistency. Patrick was sure that it never would have made it even close to being in a pie if Pete had gotten his spoon or his hands on it. "What about you?"  
"Cherry. Can't wait to eat it. Il save you some." He grinned at Patrick, and as the oven timer on Pete's oven pinged, Pete hopped down off the bench and headed back to his own work space with a little wave.

The pies were a success. Patrick's pie was probably the best thing he had baked yet. Olivia helped him ease the pie put of the tin without it collapsing. He glanced over at Pete who was already eating his cherry pie. He watched as Pete devoured a handful of crumbling pastry and sticky, red cherry filling. Patrick was a dirty pervert because his gaze lingered on Pete licking the slick, red fruit filling off his index finger and thumb. Olivia caught him watching. 

"You know," she said, "if you like him you should ask him out."  
It caught Patrick off guard. "Hmm? What?"  
"Iv watched you two making googley eyes at each other for weeks. He seems like a nice boy."  
"Oh." He hadn't really expected that. "Maybe."  
She gave Patrick a knowing look, and a smile. Maybe. 

When class was over and Patrick was packing up to go home, Pete dropped him over a slice of cherry pie all wrapped up in paper towels and Patrick exchanged it for the slice of very gooey chocolate pie he had put aside for Pete.

Pete beamed at his gift and headed off into the night.

*

Patrick thought about what Olivia had said to him. But he came to no real conclusion. Pete was great fun, and he was happy he'd made a friend at his class. Maybe they could keep in touch and go see a band or something some time. Patrick wasn't really sure about the asking Pete out on a date bit. The jury was still out on that part. He definitely had a crush on Pete, but not an astronomical one. He could be friends with someone he sort of liked. No big deal. Maybe he could just see how it played out.

Pete was already at the bench at the back of the classroom when Patrick arrived. He was dressed in his usual sinfully skinny jeans and a hoody. The hoody was bright purple with a big, weird bat design on it and Pete had once again pulled it down over his hands. Great, Patrick was crushing on a boy with fucking *sweater paws*, now he was officially a teenage girl. Though after three weeks, he had sort of succumbed to that thought. There was two cream-and-syrup-filled Starbucks frappacinos in front of him and when Patrick sat down Pete cautiously pushed one along the bench to him.  
"I hope you like coffee. It's to make up for last week when I abandoned you."  
Patrick grinned. Of course he liked coffee. Who the fuck doesn't like coffee? "Awesome. Thanks."

Today's lesson was cupcakes and Patrick had been looking forward to this one the most. Pete seemed to be pretty overjoyed too. Everyone likes cupcakes.

The mixed up the batter in the same way that they had on their first class. Pete spilled far less flour when he was sifting this time ("hey, Pattycakes! Look I've made progress, I'm almost like a real baker"), though he seemed just as gleeful to watch it drift into the bowl like a mini snowstorm. They split the batter and dyed half of it purple with food colouring to match Pete's hoody, and the other half the added cocoa powder to make chocolate batter. If Patrick had let Pete have his way they would have also added sprinkles, chocolate chips, almond flavouring and probably a handful of other things. Patrick persuaded Pete to keep it simple with the promise that they could go nuts on the decorating instead ("Ooh! Nuts! We gotta add nuts to them, Patrick!").

When their cupcakes were baking, they made their frosting in obnoxious pink, bright red, and chocolate, and did all of their dishes. When they removed their cupcakes from the oven and they were cooled enough to decorate, they set to work. Pete's hoody sleeves (and sweater paws) were too long to work properly so he pulled it up over his head and the shirt underneath rucked up halfway with it. Patrick got an eyeful of Pete's toned, golden tummy as well as a bat-heart-skull tattoo which disappeared into the waistband of his underwear which stuck up above his low riding jeans. Patrick had to look away, and train his eyes on the wall at the end of the class room to stop himself from staring as Pete fixed himself up. Patrick got to check out Pete's other ink too, now that his arms were bare. 

Frosting the cupcakes was the most fun that Patrick had had in weeks and weeks. It was nothing like icing the cookies they had previously learned. This time they had to battle with several different nozzles on the piping bag to get different effects. Patrick couldn't remember the last time he'd laughed that hard (except for their other forays into baking), as they squeezed out random shapes and designs onto the cakes. Once again it looked like small children had decorated them, and then perhaps sat on them, but Patrick couldn't have been more proud. Pete emblazoned a big "M" on one of them, "for my friend, Mikey. He gave me a ride today so I wouldn't be late again," he explained. Patrick felt like he owed Mikey one too.

Pete eyed the two that he had smothered with edible glitter. "They sort of look like a unicorn vomited on them." Patrick knew that most people may have said that sentence with disdain, but Pete's voice was full of awe. It was sort of charming.

Their teacher gathered them all together and thanked them for their participation for the past four weeks. She told them to leave their email address if they wished to receive a copy of the recipes they had practiced and for some news on a follow up course. Pete rubbed his palms together, elated that there might be more baking learn at some point in the future. 

So that was their last class done and dusted. They packed their remaining monstrously over decorated cupcakes (seriously, Patrick wondered if there was any decorations left for any of their class mates) into little cardboard cupcake boxes. Patrick put his carefully into his backpack. Pete held his close to his chest, "so they won't get smushed." Patrick walked out of the building with Pete, Pete clutching his little cupcake box like it was very precious cargo. They reached the front door and Patrick hovered just outside the entrance, unsure what to do with himself. This was their last class so he wasn't going to see Pete again unless they arranged to meet for something. Patrick's stomach was full of little crazy butterflies. 

"So. Um. I think baking is one of those use-it-or-lose-it skills. I think we totally need to keep baking or we'll forget how to do it." Pete's eyes were wide as Patrick spoke. There was a smudge of black kohl eyeliner around them which looked like it could have been there for days. It made his already molten brown eyes look darker. Patrick was transfixed.  
"So," Patrick continued, " I was thinking we should practice? You could maybe come over to my house?"  
"Oh." Pete looked thrilled. "Sure," he beamed. This could be the moment that Patrick was waiting for, where he could suggest it was a date rather than just baking as friends. His heart was beating so hard in his chest he was practically gargling it. He could just open his mouth and say the words. He was about to. Except...

Pete moved closer to him, the cupcake box the only space between them. He looked down at his shoes and then back up to lock eyes with Patrick. Those beautiful cocoa-powder-brown eyes. Pete had a tiny smile playing on his lips when he spoke. "I was sort of hoping it could be a date? I mean, I know there was no eligible single girls for you in the class, but how 'bout an emo boy, who can now bake you cookies? I promise to make you nicer frosting this time." He made a face that was half-smile and half-grimace. He looked hopeful, but like he was also assuming Patrick would say no.  
"I'd love to."

Pete's face changed into a wide, toothy grin that stretched all the way up to his eyes. He angled himself closer to Patrick and leaned in to kiss him. Pete's kiss was soft but eager. He pushed forward gently with his mouth, and Patrick was keen to kiss back. Pete captured Patrick's bottom lip between both of his, and there was just a hint of tongue, enough to let Patrick know that there was more to come. Each motion of their lips sent miniature shock waves through Patrick's body and made the little butterflies in his stomach cartwheel like they were on amphetamines. Unsurprisingly, considering the amount of it he had eaten, Pete tasted of vanilla buttercream frosting. Though Patrick suspected that he may have tasted delicious anyway. Pete curled his free hand onto Patrick's hip and held on.

When Pete pulled away from the kiss, he pressed his forehead to Patrick's. "I think we squashed my cupcakes."

"Il make you more if you do that again." 

Pete smiled against Patrick's lips as he kissed him again.

*

For their first date they sat wound around each other on Patrick's couch, Pete half on Patrick's lap. They exchanged slow, lazy kisses and ate raw cookie dough. There was no actual baking, they didn't even turn the oven on. They could practice that the next time

*

END


End file.
